Wake Me Up When You're Home
by dancingroundallalone
Summary: Blaine finds an excuse to visit his boyfriend's bedroom while he is away. Fluff.


He knew it was a bad idea. He knew it would only make everything immeasurably worse. But as Blaine closed his eyes and breathed in that achingly distant, yet eternally familiar, scent, he was unable to move against the cool fabric of his boyfriend's abandoned bed and drag himself away from thoughts of the past summer.

He'd only meant to stop by for ten minutes, he honestly had, but he knew subconsciously that the hunt for his spare pair of sunglasses really wasn't as urgent as he'd informed Burt it was on the phone that morning. Kurt's father had been more than willing to leave a key under the doormat and invite Blaine to search for his missing belongings while he was busy at the shop, but he hadn't bothered to ask his son's boyfriend why he was in such desperate need to reclaim a pair of sunglasses in the midst of a bitter Ohio November.

Blaine's eyes flipped open. He was lying on his back in the centre of the bed, his shoes dropped carelessly on the carpet below him. The window was open to his left, and a light wind traced over his bare feet, making him shiver.

The house was silent and heavy in its missing presence and Blaine felt like every corner of the room was in his reach. His fingers twitched as he imagined tracing them around the handles of the closet, along the light dust on the uneven windowsill and his hands clenched into fists as he recalled scratching his nails against the bedframe in the dark as his lips reached for Kurt's.

"I miss you."

The whisper left Blaine's lips before he'd even had a chance to think about what he was saying. He sighed, rolling over heavily. _Six weeks,_ he told himself. _Six more weeks and Kurt will be here and we can lie in this bed with the breeze on our toes and talk about those stupid stuffed reindeer that the Lima Bean staff stand in their windows at Christmas, and why oversized knitted arm-warmers should never be excluded from the list of unforgivable fashion crimes whether it's snowing outside or not. And then we can try to argue about our favourite musicals before realizing we agree on them all anyway and then sing soppy seasonal duets to each other before drifting off into a half-sleep whilst a Disney movie flickers on the TV._

But of course, there were no stuffed reindeer in The Lima Bean, it wasn't snowing outside and it wasn't the Christmas holidays. It was a cold, grey, 1st of November and Kurt was still in New York.

Blaine was oblivious to the stinging in his eyes as his tears dropped solidly onto the duvet. His shuddering breaths cracked the silence as he gave in to sore sobs.

He lay crying stiffly for at least half an hour, but to Blaine, the bed never got any warmer, and the silence of the empty house only grew louder. He was tempted to get into the bed; burrow into Kurt's blankets and kid himself that he could feel his boyfriend in his arms, but he'd told Burt that he'd drop the spare key back at the shop on his way home, and if he lay there any longer, he was fairly certain he would never want to move again.

He'd stayed over several times during the summer. The first, when Burt and Carole had taken a trip to the lakes for the weekend, but after a stern tutelage and a written promise that he and Kurt would remain fully clothed for the duration of his stay, Blaine had been allowed to spend several more nights curled up with his boyfriend while they watched the late night sunsets from the bedroom window.

Leaving the next day had been near-impossible every time, but Blaine was willing to sacrifice the stitching in his pyjama shirts to a sleepy Kurt's surprisingly strong clasp as he dragged himself out of bed, if it meant that he could spend another night with him a just week later.

They had stayed true to their promises too, but being banned from sex in Kurt's house hadn't been an issue when Blaine knew his parents were unlikely to spend any more than two days a week in _his_ house. Although Kurt _had_ hinted slyly at the fact that Blaine couldn't be expected to remain fully clothed when showering at the Hummel-Hudson house and suggested that they make the most of this loophole whilst his father and step-mother were out at work. Blaine pointedly refused to go back on his promise to Burt, but was quickly persuaded otherwise by the seduction in Kurt's eyes and his insistence that no one would enter the house for another two hours.

A loud buzz snapped Blaine out of his less-than-innocent daydream as his phone vibrated in his back pocket. Shuffling uncomfortably, he extracted it and looked at the screen.

_Kurt Calling._

"Hello?" Blaine mumbled, only now becoming aware of how dry his throat was.

"Hey Honey, did I wake you?" Blaine sank heavily into the sound of Kurt's voice; the room suddenly becoming warm and alive and _full_ again.

"Not really," he replied softly. "I was just daydreaming."

"Hmmm. Anything nice?"

"Just you," Blaine grinned. "And a shower. A really _hot_ shower."

The sound of Kurt's responding laughter trilled in Blaine's ear and he found himself curling up on the bed, nuzzling his cheek into the cotton, his lips trapped in a delectable smile.

"Good to hear you're focusing hard on your senior year!" Kurt pretended to scold. "Are you indulging in this fantasy at school?"

"Oh no, afternoon classes were cancelled. Although it will be a pleasing image during Chemistry tomorrow," Blaine teased.

"Are you at home now then?" Kurt asked, his voice hopeful. "We could Skype..?"

Blaine swallowed audibly. "Uh, no," he said quickly, willing his brain to come up with an excuse that would not sound as disturbing as the truth would. 'I'm in your bed', really wasn't an appropriate response when your boyfriend was five hundred miles away.

"I'm just leaving the gym," he threw in quickly, hoping Kurt wouldn't notice his uneven tone.

"Ohhh, are you all sweaty from boxing?" Kurt asked provocatively. Blaine laughed nervously. "I bet your hair's gone all curly too…" Kurt added, and Blaine could almost see him winking.

"Yeah," he responded vaguely, unwilling to go into the details of his white lie. He was almost tempted to run to the gym immediately, his hatred of lying to his boyfriend making him feel obliged to actually make it a truthful statement, whether Kurt was around to know or not.

"Remember when we went swimming over the summer and you insisted we went past your house on the way to Breadstix just so you could gel your hair again?" Kurt laughed. "Everyone said you were worse than me!"

Blaine laughed at the fond memory. "I was _not_ worse than you: you brought your hairspray _with_ you!"

"Of course I did," Kurt replied simply. "I take it everywhere with me."

"Exactly! If you didn't, you've have demanded a detour much sooner than I had," Blaine teased, glancing over at the empty dresser that was usually cluttered with Kurt's hair and skin products on the other side the room.

"Well, maybe," Kurt sighed and Blaine could sense the smile in his voice.

The couple fell silent for a moment, and Blaine's gaze wound across the room. He was certain the tiny balls of lint in front of the closet had been outlawed before Kurt moved out, and would have gone over to pick them up if he hadn't been so unbelievably comfortable in his current position. His eyes fell suddenly on the still hands of the clock on Kurt's wall.

"Your clock's stopped," he blurted unthinkingly. He realized his mistake the moment his lips stopped moving, but it was too late.

"What clock?" Kurt asked, confused. "The clock in my room?"

"Uh, yeah. I just-"

"How did you just remember that?" Kurt asked, a light laugh in his speech.

Blaine sighed. He wasn't going to lie again. "I'm not at the gym," he started.

"Oh, do you want to call me back when you've driven home?"

"I was never at the gym. I'm in your room," Blaine spoke over him, preparing for the awkward response.

There was a pause. "Oh," Kurt's voice was unreadable.

Blaine swallowed again before continuing. "I couldn't find my pink sunglasses last week and Cooper wanted to borrow them to use in L.A. and I really didn't want to give them to him but then he said I had no use for them in Ohio so I didn't have an excuse to not hand them over to my 'only brother' and then I gave in and said I'd look for them but I couldn't find them so I thought I'd left them at your house so I asked your dad if I could stop by and have a look and he left me a key under the mat and I came over this afternoon and I'm supposed to take the key back as soon as I'm done but then I lay on your bed and I know that's super creepy but now I don't want to move because it all smells like you and I miss you so much and-"

"Blaine!"

Blaine's rant cut off abruptly at the sound of Kurt's voice, and it wasn't until he'd stopped talking that he realized he had tears in his eyes again and was choking back a sob.

"I'm sorry," he said, his voice soft.

"Blaine, Honey, it's ok," Kurt soothed gently. "I don't mind that you're in my room, Silly."

"Really?" Blaine asked, his breathing becoming more even again.

"Of course not. I stole you away into my bed plenty of times over the summer," Kurt teased. "And didn't my dad always say you're welcome whenever you want?"

Blaine sniffed and smiled. "He did. He was really helpful when I called him this morning, actually."

"See, you may as well just move in. No one will mind," Kurt joked, a smile clear in his voice. "And you can keep my bed warm for me when I get back."

Laughing, Blaine sat up on the bed. Even though the ache caused by the absence of his boyfriend was temporarily subdued, he suddenly felt even more tempted to climb under the covers.

"Sounds good to me," he paused. "Six more weeks, right?"

"Six more weeks." Kurt repeated.

Blaine took a deep breath of heavily scented air. The room had grown dark at an inexplicable speed and the breeze was growing stronger through the open window, causing the hairs to stand up on his bare arms. Suddenly fearful that the strong wind would blow away all traces of the scent of Kurt's skin and face cream and hairspray and expensive fabric softener before he'd be back to replace it, Blaine jumped off the bed and swung the window shut against its frame.

"I should probably go home," Blaine said, but in contrast to his words he sat back on the bed, and this time he found himself sliding under the covers and resting his head on a smooth, abandoned pillow. "Your dad will… wonder… wonder where I've… got to." His voice was muffled against the heavy fabrics and suddenly growing thick with sleep, even as he repeated to himself that he really did need to leave.

"Blaine?" Kurt's voice was soft.

* * *

Two hours later, Kurt was stretched out on the threadbare sofa in his and Rachel's shared apartment, flicking through the TV channels in search of something mildly entertaining to accompany him whilst his best friend was at rehearsals. His phone screen lit up and buzzed suddenly and he reached across the coffee table to pick up a call from Carole.

"Hello?"

"Hey Sweetie, we seem to have found ourselves with an unexpected visitor," Carole said with light amusement. "There's a sleeping boy in your bed."

_He fell asleep?!_ Kurt's face spread into an adoring grin as he wrapped his arms around his knees, the image of his precious boyfriend curled up in his covers causing his heart to swell.

"Well, if he's cute, leave him be," he replied happily. "And then send me a picture!" he added quickly.

Carole laughed. "He sure is. He keeps mumbling about being in love with someone called Kurt, though. Any idea who he's referring to?" she teased.

Kurt blushed deeply, though there was no one to see. "Hmmm, I have no idea!" he laughed. "Wait, are you watching him?" he added sharply.

"Uh, no… Well, I was just on my way past and he looked so adorable and I couldn't resist-"

"Carole!" Kurt burst, holding back his laughter. "Oh please don't wake him."

"I won't, don't worry," she assured him. "We're allowed to feed him if he wakes up by himself though, right?"

Kurt rolled his eyes, still grinning. "Of course."

"Good," she replied brightly. "I'd better go. Your dad's going to call you tonight, ok?"

"I'll be waiting," Kurt said. "But don't forget my picture."

Carole laughed. "Sending it right away," she replied. "Bye, Sweetie."

"Bye." Kurt hung up, sighing.

_At least I'll have a new photo to gaze at before I fall asleep tonight,_ he thought wistfully as he sunk deeper into the sofa and buried his face in a cushion. _Blaine Anderson, you are too cute._


End file.
